BX 

we*! 

A8M3 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

(SMITHSONIAN DEPOSIT.) 

Chap 3)^^61 
Shelf ,A©M3 



UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. I 



THE MEMORY OF THE RIGHTEOUS DEAD. 



A SERMON, 

PREACHED, JANUARY 11, 1846, 

AT THE 

NEW GRAVEL-PIT CHAPEL, HACKNEY, 
#n ©ccaston of tTje H&eaty 

OF 

THE REV. ROBERT ASPLAND. 



BY 

THOMAS MADGE, 

MINISTER OF ESSEX-STREET CHAPEL. 



LONDON: 

CHAPMAN, BROTHERS, NEWGATE STREET. 
1846. 



C. GREEN, PRINTER, HACKNEY. 




THE WIDOW AND FAMILY, 
AND TO THE CONGREGATION, 
OF HIS 
DEPARTED FRIEND, 
THE FOLLOWING DISCOURSE, 
PUBLISHED AT THEIR REQUEST, 
IS RESPECTFULLY INSCRIBED, 
BY 

THEIR FRIEND AND SERVANT, 

THOMAS MADGE. 



HIGHBURY GRANGE, 
FEB. 2, 1846. 



LATELY PUBLISHED, 
BY THE AUTHOE OF THIS DISCOURSE, 
EST ONE VOL. 8YO, 

LECTURES 

ON CERTAIN HIGH- CHURCH PRINCIPLES 

COMMONLY DESIGNATED BY THE TEEM 

PUSEYISM. 



SERMON. 



The occasion on which I now rise to address 
you, — of great and solemn interest to all, — excites 
in my own mind thoughts and feelings to which I 
find it difficult to give adequate and appropriate 
expression. Most willingly would I have declined 
the task which lies before me, could I have done 
so consistently with the regard which is due to 
the wishes of living friends, or with the estimation 
in which I hold the character, the services, the 
memory of him who is gone. The place where I 
now stand is in my mind so associated with the 
image of your departed Minister — of our beloved 
friend — with the expression of his animated counte- 
nance — with the tones of his living voice, — that I 
can scarcely realize to myself the conviction that 
here you will see his face no more ; that never again 
will you hear from him those words of truth and 
soberness to which you have, doubtless, often lis- 
tened with delighted, and, I trust, with profitable 



6 



attention. For the bereavement over which we 
mourn, and which will spread so wide and deep 
a sorrow — especially among that religious commu- 
nity of which he was a distinguished ornament — 
we were none of us, perhaps, altogether unprepared. 
He had been so long laid aside from active service, 
and, from the nature of his protracted illness, so 
little hope was entertained of any substantial or 
durable amendment, that no other result than that 
which has happened could reasonably have been 
anticipated. Though, on our own account, we 
might have wished to retain him a little longer in 
the land of the living ; yet, when we consider what 
life had become to him, what a burthen of weakness 
and suffering it had laid upon him, we may readily 
believe that for him " to die was gain," and that 
the event which has touched our hearts with grief 
has been wisely and mercifully ordained. Let us 
bow, then, in humble and dutiful submission to the 
will of God, assured that that Will is always best. 
This is the lesson which must often have dropped 
from the lips of your venerated Pastor, and it is 
one which, if his departed spirit could now address 
you, he would, I believe, have been most anxious 
to impress upon your minds. Still, prepared for it 
as we may have been, and satisfied that the present 
dispensation is a dispensation of mercy, — that God 
does not afflict willingly or grieve the children of 
men, — still, I say, we cannot throw off the feelings 
of our humanity. Come when it will, death is, at 



7 



all times, to the heart of surviving love and Mend- 
ship, a painful and melancholy visitant. To hang 
over the lifeless remains of those in whose active 
kind offices we have long shared — to call upon him 
who has counselled and comforted us, and to know 
that we call in vain — to see those eyes for ever 
closed in darkness which were wont to open upon 
us in light and in love — to press the cold hand, 
and to feel no pressure in return — to witness in the 
friend we have honoured and loved, this sad, mys- 
terious transformation, — is, undoubtedly, of human 
trials, one of the greatest and severest. But even 
in the midst of afflictions like this, we have not 
been left comfortless and without hope. There is 
a voice that whispers, " God is not the God of the 
dead, but of the living, for all live unto him ;" and 
the virtuous and the good shall meet again. With 
this blessed assurance, sorrow warms into the glow 
of piety; and though the pang of separation may 
still be felt, we shall be consoled in our grief by 
that powerful and beautiful word which has gone 
forth and declared to the pilgrims of earth, that 
there is reserved for them in heaven an inheritance 
incorruptible and undefiled, and that fadeth not 
away. 

The passage of Scripture which I have selected 
as not unsuitable to the present occasion, and from 
which I propose to draw such further reflections as 
may, I trust, minister to you moral benefit and 
spiritual consolation, is taken from 



8 



Hebrews xiii. 7 : 

Remember them who had the rule over you, (who presided over 
you,) who have spoken unto you the word of God, whose faith 
follow, considering the end of their conversation. 

The writer of these words seems to have been 
aware of the kindly and virtuous influence which 
the remembrance of the wise and good is calculated 
to exercise over the human heart. Addressing the 
Jewish believers, he calls to their recollection those 
excellent and distinguished men who had laboured 
to instruct them in the doctrines of the gospel, and 
to lead them into the ways of truth and righteous- 
ness. He reminds them of the privileges and ad- 
vantages which they had thus enjoyed, and of the 
duties and obligations thereby entailed upon them. 
He appeals to their best feelings and affections, and 
exhorts them to keep in grateful and affectionate 
veneration and regard the memory of their illus- 
trious teachers. He beseeches them not to forget 
their pure doctrine, their holy faith, their virtuous 
conversation, their fortitude and courage in the 
profession of the truth, and their zealous, disinte- 
rested exertions for its promotion in the world. 

And why was such an exhortation addressed to 
them] Why were they thus invited to meditate 
on those who had gone before them] Not, we 
may venture to say, for the purpose of burning in- 
cense to the fame of the dead, of heaping vain and 
unprofitable honours upon the dust of their graves ; 
but for the sake of those pure thoughts and vir- 



9 



tuous feelings which such a habit is fitted to inspire. 
On this account the words of the text are as appli- 
cable to us as they were to the first disciples. Be 
they, then, considered as spoken to ourselves. And 
in asking us to remember those who have been our 
guides and instructors, who have shewn to us the 
way of salvation — -in urging us sometimes to think 
with tender and affectionate interest of the sacred 
and pleasant intercourse and communion which we 
have enjoyed with them, and to bear upon our 
minds a faithful image of their labours of love, — in 
preferring such a request as this, no unreasonable 
demand is made upon our time and attention, — 
none with which a grateful and well-disposed mind 
will not be willing and prompt to comply. 

As mortal beings, we need often to be reminded 
of our mortality. As thoughtless, unreflecting crea- 
tures, absorbed in the things of time and sense, we 
require to be awakened from our moral slumbers, 
and aroused to a sense of our duty and our desti- 
nation. And as mourners in this valley of tears, 
afflicted and broken in spirit, and weeping for those 
who are not, we want to have our minds and hearts 
opened to the thoughts and the hopes and the com- 
forts of heaven, and to know and feel that there is 
a blessing attendant upon the memory of the righ- 
teous dead. 

If it be true that he who walketh with the wise 
shall be wise, it is scarcely less true that he who 
walketh with the good shall be good. It is hardly 



10 



possible to live and breathe in the same atmosphere 
with a really virtuous man, without being, in some 
measure, infected with his principles and imbued 
with his tastes. We cannot be too thankful for 
every such instance of acquaintance and companion- 
ship which it has been allowed us to enjoy. It is 
one of the most powerful human instruments which 
Providence has put into our hands for attaching us 
to virtuous pursuits, and saving us from the degra- 
dations and debasements of vice. I cannot wish 
better for you, my brethren, and for those who are 
dear to you, than that it may be your and their lot 
to have for your associates the pure, the merciful, 
and the just. Every such connection you will find 
to be a fresh link in the chain which binds you to 
duty and to God. Our characters depend so much 
upon the circumstances in which we are placed, 
upon the impressions to which we are commonly 
exposed, upon the thoughts and images and expres- 
sions with which we are most familiarized, upon 
the associations which we form, and the counsels 
and encouragements which we are in the habit of 
receiving, that we cannot be too careful as it re- 
spects both the society into which we ourselves 
enter, and that to which we introduce our children. 
It is an object of greater importance than we are 
apt to imagine. In fact, it is of the greatest import- 
ance to our moral well-being. Our minds take 
their colour and complexion very much from the 
minds with which they hold communion. He who 



11 



is in the habit of associating with the bad, insen- 
sibly acquires something of the impurity adhering 
to their character. He cannot come away from 
their society totally untainted and unpolluted. Nor 
can he, I repeat, who associates much with the 
good, retire from their intercourse without being, 
in some degree, the better for it. It may give a 
direction to his pursuits, an elevation to his views, 
a purity to his principles, and a dignity to his 
conduct, which but for this he might never have 
attained. Seek, then, for yourselves, and for those 
committed to your care, virtuous and honourable 
associates, and be assured that in obtaining these 
you are obtaining a treasure above all price, a trea- 
sure which you will learn to value more and more 
the longer you live, and which, when you come 
to die, you will be glad to bequeath as a precious 
legacy to those whom you leave behind. 

When they to whom our hearts have been knit 
in the bonds of love and friendship are taken from 
us, we feel that there goes with them much of the 
pleasantness and the beauty of our life on earth. 
But Providence has designed that such events as 
these should be productive of something better than 
unavailing, fruitless lamentation. The very sorrow, 
indeed, which is then felt, has a tendency to soften 
the heart, and to prepare it for receiving deeper the 
seeds of piety and truth. Then is the time when 
the cares of the world are, for a while, forgotten ; 
when its absorbing interests are, for a moment, un- 



12 



thought of; when even its pleasures cease to please, 
and its noise and tumult are hushed into quiet and 
peace. Then it is that we are most disposed to listen 
to the voice of Keligion, to commune with her spirit, 
to attend to her claims, to implore her aid, to seek 
her consolations, and to yield ourselves to her guid- 
ance and direction. This is one of the benefits more 
immediately resulting from the remembrance of those 
who have departed hence in the Lord. But sorrow 
is mostly short-lived, and nothing therefore which 
is dependent upon that can be reckoned lasting and 
secure. The remembrance of the virtuous dead, 
however, sometimes remains fresh and strong when 
the sorrow which was felt at their departure from us 
has subsided into the calmness and composure of 
resignation and submission. Then, indeed, a bless- 
ing attends it which is both great and enduring. 
The recollection of their good deeds, of their active 
and disinterested kindness, of the purity of their 
principles and the firmness of their integrity, — the 
recollection of all that they have said and done for 
the cause of truth and justice, of their benevolent 
wishes and holy purposes and pious endeavours, 
cannot come frequently over the soul without leaving 
behind it something of a kindred and congenial 
nature. They are gone — but their good name and 
the remembrance of their virtues yet remain. The 
sun of their human life is set, in this world to rise 
no more ; but, besides that we may look forward to 
a time when it shall re-appear and shine in a nobler 



13 



sphere, it has even now kindled in the hearts of 
many a survivor a light which shall never he extin- 
guished, a light which will continue to shed upon 
them its warm and benignant influence, cherishing 
all their better purposes and stimulating and invi- 
gorating all their virtuous exertions. Such, too, is 
the constitution of our minds, that in thinking of the 
wise and good who have been taken from us, we can 
scarcely recollect or think of any thing that is not 
itself good. The little frailties and imperfections 
which may have been attached to them on earth, 
fall away from them as they put off the garment of 
mortality. It may be said, indeed, that they never 
really formed any part of themselves. They never 
were substantially incorporated with their souls. 
They had gathered around them in the course of 
time, as gathers the ivy around the oak on which it 
grows ; but, as in that case so in this, they were 
never essentially blended together ; and now that we 
can contemplate them out of the body, apart from 
those adjuncts and appendages with which they were, 
for a while, connected, and with which, perhaps, we 
had here too closely identified them ; now that we 
can survey them through a purer and brighter me- 
dium than that which formerly surrounded them, 
we see them as having been, substantially and in- 
trinsically, even on earth what we shall find them to 
be when we meet with them in heaven. So that in 
dwelling on the memory of the virtuous dead, we are 
not only led to form a juster estimate of the real 



14 



worth of their character, but by recalling to our 
remembrance their good qualities, disjoined and 
separated from those little blemishes which may 
have entwined about them here, we see more per- 
fectly into the true nature and character of Virtue ; 
her graces and her excellencies are more fully and 
clearly revealed, and present still higher and stronger 
claims upon our admiration and our love. 

There is no consideration more soothing to the 
grief of sorrowing friends than the thought, that 
they for whom they mourn have acted their part in 
life faithfully and well ; that they have done what 
they could ; and that if there be another state after 
this, as we believe and are assured there is, their 
condition in that state cannot, for a moment, be 
doubtful. It is, indeed, a sweet reflection, — the 
value and comfort of which it is hardly possible to 
express in words, — when we can say to ourselves, 
Our friend is taken from us, but he died in peace 
and sleeps in Jesus, and his spirit rests in hope. 
He has descended to the grave clothed with the 
virtues of a Christian, after having, through life, 
constantly endeavoured to walk humbly with God 
and honestly before men. This, in conjunction with 
the gospel assurance of God's pardoning mercy, is a 
foundation upon which we may venture to build a 
fabric of high and glorious expectations. Knowing 
what the character of the departed has been ; hav- 
ing witnessed his spotless integrity, and his pure 
and unaffected piety ; having observed in the whole 



15 



tenour of his life that devotedness to duty which is 
the best test of a heart right with God, — it is not 
too much, when we stand by the grave of such a 
friend, to anticipate for him, in the future world, 
all that is blissful and happy. And so we read in 
Scripture, " Blessed are they who die in the Lord, 
for they rest from their labours, and their works 
do follow them." The memory of the just thus 
becomes associated with the rewards of virtue in 
heaven. It reminds us of what we ourselves are to 
be, when this earthly house of our tabernacle is dis- 
solved, and we have entered into our rest. It brings 
before our minds the glorious vision of futurity, and 
instead of fixing our attention upon the darkness 
and silence of the tomb, it points to mansions in the 
sky, to that " land of holy and pure delight, where 
saints immortal dwell." While our friends are with 
us on earth, we may, perhaps, wish for them a 
thousand other things besides piety and virtue ; but 
when this world is no more to them, we feel that 
all else is as nothing and vanity ; and that if they 
possessed these, they possessed every thing, — every 
thing necessary to their real and enduring happi- 
ness. At such a time, what on their account will 
it avail us to know that they were rich or powerful, 
great or prosperous, if they have not been wise and 
good ] Destitute of these moral qualities, there will 
be wanting in the composition of their characters 
the only ingredient which can make us think of 
them with complacency and satisfaction, — the only 



16 



ingredient which can give us comfort and peace in 
the retrospect of the past. Let the parent wish for 
his child honour and reputation and worldly ad- 
vancement ; for these, within the bounds of mode- 
ration, he may lawfully strive ; but let him not think 
that these, in themselves considered, are enough; 
that these alone can compensate for the absence of 
the higher attributes of our being. If he do, the 
time may come when he will bitterly deplore the 
error of his calculation, and remember — too late, 
alas ! for his own happiness — that it is the wise, the 
good, the virtuous child who alone maketh a glad 
father. 

We live in a world where the objects of sense are 
ever pressing upon us, dividing our cares and dis- 
tracting our attention, and where we are continu- 
ally tempted to forget that here we have no conti- 
nuing city, but are only pilgrims and strangers, as 
all our fathers were. Now the remembrance of the 
virtuous dead tends very much to dispel this delu- 
sion, and gently reminds us that this is not our 
home ; that our real citizenship is in heaven ; and 
that the time will soon come when, with us also, 
the silver cord shall be loosed, and the golden bowl 
be broken ; when the dust shall return to the earth 
as it was, and the spirit to God who gave it. 

In addition to these remarks, let me observe once 
more, that the remembrance of the society and the 
charities which we have enjoyed on earth, is one 
very efficacious means, in the order of Providence, 



17 



of preparing us for the society and the charities to 
be enjoyed in heaven. When we think of all the 
bright days and the pleasant, cheerful hours which 
we have spent in the company of our departed friends 
— when we reflect upon all that we have thought 
and felt and hoped and feared in common — when 
we call to mind all the sweet interchanges of kind- 
ness and sympathy that have passed between us, — 
we cannot but earnestly wish and pray that this in- 
terchange and fellowship may hereafter be accorded 
to us again. And blessed be God for the assurance 
which he has given us, through Jesus Christ, that 
so it will be, if we are followers of them who, through 
faith and patience, inherit the promises. Do you 
ask, What is the path that has led them to honour 
and to happiness'? We answer, it is the path of 
religion and piety; and peaceful and beautiful as 
that path always is, it presents itself to us as more 
peaceful and beautiful still, because it is the path 
which has been trodden by them. All our best 
desires, all our natural sympathies, all our strongest, 
dearest affections, thus become engaged and enlisted 
on the side of virtue. It is not required of us that 
we should wean our thoughts or withdraw our cares 
from the objects immediately around us, and which 
may deservedly claim some portion of our regard; 
but finding, by experience, upon what a frail and 
tottering foundation all our attachments in this 
world rest — looking only to this world- — it behoves 
us to strive to raise our thoughts above the earth, 

B 



18 



and to build our hopes in heaven, knowing that there 
we shall reap the best fruits of our love if, in the 
mean time, we continue patient in well-doing. It 
is a great mistake to suppose that the remembrance 
of the virtuous dead tends to make us think less, or 
with less regard, of our living friends. It rather 
inclines us to value and love them more. As the 
circle contracts, we are naturally drawn closer toge- 
ther. And moreover, when the shades of our de- 
parted friends pass before our minds, we are apt to 
revert, at the same time, to all those instances in 
which we have been, in any way, harsh or unkind 
or ungrateful to them. We mourn over the error 
of which we have thus been guilty, and we vow in 
our hearts never again to inflict upon ourselves so 
painful and bitter a recollection. Hence we are led 
to watch with greater care, and to cherish with 
tenderer affection, the friends who are yet spared 
to us. The memory of the just, therefore, is calcu- 
lated to make us kinder as well as purer. Our 
minds, from reflecting upon those we have lost, re- 
turn with a warmer interest to the consideration of 
those that remain. 

In these general observations on the advantages 
and blessings to be derived from virtuous remem- 
brances, you have, no doubt, as I went along, ad- 
verted in your minds to him whose labours here, so 
long and faithfully dedicated to your service, are 
now closed for ever. Many and great as may be 
the benefits commonly resulting from the direction 



19 



of your thoughts in the way of which I have now 
been speaking, they must be greatly enhanced when 
your attention is turned towards those who were 
not only your friends and associates, but your 
counsellors and instructors in the things pertaining 
to the kingdom of heaven. In addition, then, to 
the reasons already mentioned, there are especial 
grounds, in the present instance, why you should 
cherish the remembrance of him who is gone. He 
stood to you in one of the most interesting and 
important relations that one human being can sus- 
tain towards another. He was your pastor, your 
minister or servant in Christ. From him you were 
long accustomed to receive those lessons of hea- 
venly wisdom which he drew from the treasury of 
the revealed word. From sabbath to sabbath he 
met you here, guiding your devotions, raising your 
thoughts from man to God and from time to eter- 
nity, opening to your view the way of salvation, and 
beseeching you to walk therein, that so you might 
find rest to your souls. Here he stood, week after 
week, for a period of many years, to speak to you 
and to reason with you of righteousness and judge- 
ment and a world to come. Here, from time to 
time and as occasion required, he not only warned 
every man and taught every man in all wisdom, but 
spoke to the hearts of the sorrowful and the de- 
jected, of the contrite and the penitent, of the weary 
and heavy laden, those words of peace and comfort 
and hope of which they severally stood in need. 

b 2 



20 



To one with whom you were thus accustomed to 
assemble in the house of prayer and to meditate on 
mortality and immortality, who expounded to you 
with singular force and clearness the oracles of God, 
and imparted to you of his own spiritual wealth, 
there must be attached feelings of no common inte- 
rest. I will not believe that you can call to mind 
what he once was, that you can think of him as 
you have here seen him in all the vigour of life and 
the plenitude of his intellectual power, earnestly 
and eloquently pleading the cause of truth and 
righteousness, and making your hearts vibrate to 
the tones which he uttered, — I cannot believe that 
such recollections can be brought vividly before you 
without some meltings of human sorrow that all 
this is for ever passed away, and the silent utter- 
ance of a blessing upon the memory of so able and 
faithful a minister in the Lord. 

But emotions like these are not all that is re- 
quired of you. Something more must be added to 
them, if you would fulfill the injunction contained 
in the text, and turn the present dispensation of 
Divine Providence to the uses for which it is de- 
signed, and which it is both your wisdom and your 
duty to endeavour to draw from it. You are not 
only to remember, then, the personal qualities, the 
talents and the virtues of those who have presided 
over you in the church of Christ, but you are to 
remember their counsels and admonitions, the object 
and end of their ministrations, the faith which they 



21 



inculcated and the duties which they enforced. You 
must recall to your minds, and impress deeply upon 
your hearts, the valuable instructions, the solemn 
warnings, the urgent entreaties, the affectionate sup- 
plications, that were addressed to you to persuade 
you to walk worthy of the vocation to which you 
have been called, — worthy of the glorious destina- 
tion to which you aspire. Fruitless sympathies, 
mere passing regrets, will do no honour to the me- 
mory of the departed, and no good to your own 
souls. Your sorrow for what is lost, your remem- 
brance of those who are gone, will only tell to your 
greater condemnation, if they lead to no practical 
result. To be serviceable to yourselves ; to be use- 
ful to others ; to constitute a fitting tribute to the 
virtues of the dead, or a grateful offering to the 
affections of the living, they must flow into your 
lives, to purify and elevate them ; they must dwell 
in your hearts, to cleanse and sanctify them. With- 
out some such homage as this, your outward cere- 
monial of respect will be but a vain show. I do 
not say to you, remember not him who in this place 
so long presided over you — it would be discreditable 
to you if you did not — but I say, remember more 
than all, and above all, the words of truth which 
he has here spoken to you; bring back the pure 
thoughts and the holy desires which his living voice 
inspired into you ; carry out the good purposes 
and the virtuous resolutions which he may have 
awakened in your breasts ; and take into the cham- 



22 



bers of your souls those great Christian principles 
whose claims upon your regard and reverence he so 
often and so powerfully set before you, and which, 
if they be thus received and cherished, will be to 
you as the cloud by day and the pillar of fire by 
night, to guide you safely through the pilgrimage 
of earth, and to bring you at last to the green pas- 
tures and still waters of eternal life. Let these be 
the fruits of his labours among you, and you will 
then fulfill his own warmest wishes on your behalf, — 
wishes which I cannot deny myself the gratification 
of expressing, and you the advantage of hearing, in 
his own words. 

" Though my exertions," says he, in the Dedica- 
tion prefixed to the volume of Sermons which has 
long been in your hands, and which will now pos- 
sess a double interest in your eyes — " Though my 
exertions have always fallen so far short of my 
wishes and purposes, as to cause me to feel the 
duty of deep humility before the throne of Divine 
Grace, I cannot forego the pleasing hope that, 
through the blessing of Him on whom every thing 
on earth and in heaven depends, I have not laboured 
in vain." So be it according to his prayer, and you 
will then have reason indeed to rise up and pro- 
nounce his memory blessed. 

But the sphere of his usefulness, the field of his 
exertions, extended over a larger space and embraced 
a wider circle than lies within these walls, or is 
bounded by this congregation. Here, however, was 



23 



the principal scene of his labours ; and to your re- 
ligious improvement, to your moral and spiritual 
benefit, to the instruction of your minds in the 
knowledge and apprehension of divine things, and 
the solace of your hearts with Christian consolations, 
his thoughts in private and his energies in public 
were mainly devoted. But yet he found time and 
strength to give his cares and to exert his powers 
whenever they were called for — and often were they 
called for — by the friends of truth and freedom, of 
justice and humanity. On all occasions he was 
ready to fight the good fight of faith — to contend 
earnestly for the truth which he believed to have 
been once delivered to the saints. In every struggle 
for human rights, and above all for the rights of 
conscience, he was first and foremost ] and it is not 
too much to say, that the successful issue of some 
of those struggles was, in no small degree, attribut- 
able to the wisdom of his advice, the force of his 
eloquence, the indomitable firmness of his courage, 
and the untiring patience of his perseverance. 

For the welfare of our particular religious com- 
munity,— for the interests of that cause which, in 
his mind, was closely identified with the pure gospel 
of Christ, he felt the deepest concern, and was ever 
ready to labour, both in season and out of season. 
When I consider the services for which, at different 
periods of his life, we, as a section of the Christian 
Church, are indebted to him ; when I reflect upon 
the zeal which he often displayed in behalf of our 



24 



distinguishing principles, the perspicuity with which 
he stated and illustrated them, and the vigour with 
which he repelled the attacks of unjust assailants,* 
— I feel that, in losing him, we have lost one of our 
best and ablest advocates, and whose place it will 
not be easy to supply. No wonder, then, that by 
so many among us his removal is mourned and 
lamented. How often, and in how many ways, we 
shall miss him, it is hardly necessary for me to 
observe. That he will be missed— that we shall be 
perpetually reminded of his absence — that we shall 
often feel the want of that energy and quickness of 
intellect which enabled him, with almost intuitive 
sagacity, to perceive what was fit and proper for 
the occasion, and to meet any emergency that might 
arise, in the best manner and with the best appli- 
ances, — no one who has observed him in public 
debate, or seen him engaged in the business of our 
various charities and trusts, can for a moment doubt. 
He had at all times an entire command of all his 
powers. His judgement, his tact, his insight into 
the real nature of the matter under consideration, 
never failed him. His resources seemed to be al- 



* I allude here more particularly to the Letter of Expostulation 
addressed by him to the Rev. H. H. Norris, entitled, "A Plea for 
Unitarian Dissenters" — an admirable publication, which displays, in no 
ordinary degree, the qualities of sound judgement, nice discrimination, 
an intimate knowledge of the subjects discussed, and a gentlemanly 
courtesy towards an opponent who, for the violence of his invectives 
and the uncharitableness of his temper, deserved even a severer chas- 
tisement than he received. 



25 



ways within reach — always available for the pur- 
pose required — always ready to answer his demands. 
His promptness in replying to objections, in sur- 
mounting difficulties, in shaping his course of action 
to the exigencies of the moment, has often excited 
my admiration and astonishment. How can it be, 
then, but that every where, in all our institutions 
and associations, where he was accustomed to take 
so active and leading a part, — how can it be but 
that the want of his guidance and help will be long 
and severely felt 1 

At no time, perhaps, have we, as a religious body, 
stood more in need of the aid of his judgement and 
talents than at the present moment. Amidst the 
opposition from without which we have to encoun- 
ter, — the bitter prejudices, the ignorant misconcep- 
tions, and sometimes, I fear, the wilful misrepre- 
sentations arrayed against us, — we have now, within 
our own borders, evils and difficulties of another 
and a different kind to deal with. There is a party 
among us — bearing our name at least — I trust a 
very small party — who advocate principles which 
seem to me to be subversive of the very foundations 
of our Christian faith. I confess, my brethren, that 
I understand not the Christianity which is disrobed 
of its miraculous vesture. A gospel without the 
sanction of divine authority, without the impress of 
a supernatural origin, unencircled by the radiance 
of a celestial light, without the glory of the resur- 
rection, without the triumph of the ascension, with- 



2& 



out the descent of the Comforter, would be no gospel 
to me ; would, to my mind, be no longer the bearer 
of glad tidings of great joy. For what is the high- 
est human wisdom, when compared with the wisdom 
that cometh from above % What are the brightest 
inspirations of human genius, when compared with 
those which come down upon us direct from the 
Majesty on high] How is it possible that Chris- 
tianity can be considered as having the same claims 
upon our attention and regard, can impose upon us 
the same obligations, can demand from us the same 
allegiance, or give us the same assurance that its 
promises will be fulfilled and its purposes accom- 
plished, whether we view it as the offspring of 
human wisdom — of human wisdom, say, in its lof- 
tiest elevation — or whether we consider it as a direct 
emanation from God's holy spirit 1 I avail myself 
of this solemn occasion strongly to protest against 
the justice, against the propriety, of placing under 
the same denomination, and of calling by the same 
name, parties differing so entirely and fundamentally 
as to the authoritative character of the Christian 
religion. The difference is as wide as the poles 
asunder between the faith of him who sits at the 
feet of Christ, listening with reverential attention 
to the words which fall from his lips, because he 
believes them to have been, in the main, dictated 
by the mind of God, and therefore demanding un- 
questioning acquiescence and unresisting submis- 
sion — and the faith of him who looks up to Christ 



27 



as among the wisest of human teachers, but still as 
belonging to the same class or order of men as 
Socrates or Plato, invested with no higher authority, 
and entitled to no more implicit obedience. Take 
from Christianity that divine sanction and testimony 
which miracles alone can impart, and it is like 
taking the jewel from the casket, the soul from the 
body.* 

In the views and feelings which I have now 
expressed, I believe I should have had the entire 
sympathy and the cordial concurrence of our revered 
friend ; and I am thus made still more sensible of 
the loss which we have sustained when I consider 
how his powerful mind might have helped to detect 
and expose the unsoundness of the fore-mentioned 
theory — to tear away the mystic veil under which 
this mischievous delusion has been nurtured into 
existence. Hence I am led to observe, that your 



* Touching this subject, I am glad to be able to quote the following 
impressive language of Dr. Dewey, of New York : " Look into the New 
Testament and see what is there. Is not miracle spread over it, inter- 
woven with it, every where ? I confess that I cannot reason at length 
a matter so very plain. There lies the book. If any man can tear 
miracle from the face of it, without mutilation and destruction of the 
whole record — without making the book ridiculous, the writers of it 
impostors, and the religion a foolish legend, he must possess an inge- 
nuity which, I think, has never yet been brought to bear upon the sub" 
ject. Miracle is there, clear and indisputable — veritable miracle — open 
and public — often repeated — often distinctly appealed to by our Saviour 
in support of his claims — constantly attested by eye-witnesses, and by 
the very eye-witnesses on whose fidelity and sobriety our faith in the 
religion reposes — and, I repeat it, inextricably interwoven with the 
very texture of the narrative, with the entire fabric of the system." 



28 



departed Minister received for himself, and in- 
structed you to receive, the religion of Christ as 
strictly and properly a divine revelation — not as a 
system of man's invention ; a fabric raised by the 
application of human ingenuity, or the efforts of 
human reason ; but as a scheme devised in the coun- 
sels of heaven, and sent down to earth stamped with 
the name and authority of God. Jesus, the bearer 
of this communication, the organ of his Father's will, 
was therefore regarded by him as truly his Master, 
whose teachings are to be reverently listened to, and 
whose directions are to be carefully followed. To 
him, Christ was the wisdom of God and the power 
of God — the discloser of secrets which that wisdom 
only could unveil, — the performer of wonders which 
that power alone could effect. Thus his faith was a 
faith in the word of God, and not in the reasonings 
or intuitions of man. That word it was his earnest 
desire and endeavour rightly to understand, as well 
for the sake of his own guidance and comfort, as for 
the guidance and comfort of those committed to his 
charge. With the result of this study you, my 
brethren, are well acquainted. You know that, 
contrary to the bias first impressed upon his mind, 
contrary to the opinions in the belief of which he 
was brought up, he, like many of his illustrious pre- 
decessors, was led, by a diligent and serious exami- 
nation of the Scriptures, to the firm persuasion that, 
in all its essential features, Unitarian Christianity 
bears the nearest resemblance to the original gospel 



29 



of Christ of any system now existing on earth. To 
the inculcation and promotion of this, his adopted 
faith, he henceforth devoted himself with great ear- 
nestness and ardour; and if, in his younger days, 
that ardour ever led him to any display of undue 
warmth of manner or intemperateness of expression, 
he had certainly long since outgrown this tendency ; 
and though, to the last, he valued and loved that 
form of Christianity which we profess, — and chiefly 
because to him it was the Christianity of Christ and 
his apostles, the image of its brightness and the 
mirror of its glory, — though, to the end of his days, 
he remained firmly attached to our peculiar views of 
the gospel, he delighted, nevertheless, to dwell on 
those great truths and facts which are common to 
the faith of all Christians, and by which all Chris- 
tians are or should be linked together in the bonds 
of a common brotherhood. 

Having said thus much in reference to the more 
public portion of your revered Minister's life, I shall 
abstain from going into the details of his personal 
history, and the more so, because it is rendered 
unnecessary by what has been already delivered to 
you from this place.* Nor shall I now speak of him 
as he was in his own home — of the blank that has 
been there created — of the void that must there be 
felt. God have mercy upon its inmates, and shed 
down upon them the dew of his blessing, the calm 



* In the Funeral Address of the Rev. Dr. Rees. 



30 



of meek and humble resignation to His will ! May 
they who inherit his name remember, as I am sure 
they will, that it is an honoured name ; that they 
are bound to preserve its honour ; to take care that 
by no act of theirs shall it suffer any degradation ; 
and that they will transmit it, as they have received 
it, pure and untarnished. And may you, the mem- 
bers of this congregation, who so long enjoyed the 
advantage of his valuable instructions,' — may we, 
his associates and friends, so often gladdened by his 
society and converse, — may all of us now present, 
whatever has been our relation to him, learn the 
lesson of so tuning our minds to angelic harmo- 
nies, to the song of the Lamb that is sung before 
the throne of God, that, when the appointed time 
cometh, we may be fitted and ready to join in the 
heavenly concert. May we ponder well the things 
which belong to our everlasting peace, before they 
are finally hidden from our eyes. May we endea- 
vour to do the work of duty now, knowing that the 
night cometh when no man can work. May we 
bear in mind that if we wish — and what soul is so 
dead, what heart is so cold, as not to wish 1 — to join 
again the friends we have loved and honoured here, 
we must lose no time in dressing our souls for the 
society of the blessed. If, when we drop the coil 
of mortality, we would be clothed upon with immor- 
tality, we must put on the armour of God and gird 
ourselves with the sword of the spirit now. "What- 
ever be the scene or state of being for which we are 



31 



destined, no happiness can be derived from that 
state unless we have previously brought our minds 
into something like an accordance and harmony 
with it. If we are to be raised from earth to heaven, 
heaven must first, to a certain extent, be brought 
down to earth. The elements of true happiness are 
the same in both worlds, and to reap the fruits of 
the spirit hereafter, we must cultivate the fruits of 
the spirit now. It is written, " Eye hath not seen, 
nor ear heard, nor hath it entered into the heart of 
man to conceive, the things which God hath pre- 
pared for them that love him." But if God has 
prepared these things for us, it is our part to prepare 
ourselves for them. Be prepared, then, to meet 
your God by doing those things which you know 
will be pleasing and acceptable in His sight. Be 
prepared with those pure thoughts, with those strong 
principles of duty, with that active faith and with 
that enlightened piety, which will make your lives 
useful and honourable, and your deaths peaceful 
and happy. 

My friends and fellow-christians, one word more, 
and I have done. How fast are we following, one 
after another, to that bourn whence no traveller 
returneth! How many of those with whom we 
were wont to take sweet counsel and rejoice in their 
companionship, are now assembled in the world of 
spirits ! Where our treasures are, there should our 
hearts be also. They cannot come again to us, but 
we shall go to them. How soon, is known only to 



32 



Him who hath the times and the seasons in His 
own power. The summons of our departure may- 
even now have gone forth. The angel of death 
may now be on his way to mark us for his own. 
But whether early or late, in the morning, noon 
or evening of life, the event is equally certain, and 
demands from us the same preparation. Meanwhile, 
let us comfort ourselves with the assurance that the 
souls of the righteous are in the hand of God, and 
that He will keep the sacred deposit which is com- 
mitted to Him until that day, when the bondage of 
the grave shall be broken, and death shall be swal- 
lowed up in victory. 




Printed by C. Green, Hackney. 




THE MEMORY OF THE RIGHTEOUS DEAD. 



A SERMON, 

PREACHED, JANUARY 11, 1846, 

AT THE 

NEW GRAVEL-PIT CHAPEL, HACKNEY, 
#n <£ccastoit of fyz Heatf) 

OF 

THE REV. ROBERT ASPLAND. 



by y 

THOMAS ' MADGE, 

MINISTER OF ESSEX-STREET CHAPEL. 



LONDON: 

CHAPMAN, BROTHERS, NEWGATE STREET. 
1846. 



mm 

ill:* 




